Chapter 49
Sky
As if in slow motion, I turn around. I didn't just imagine it.
Father is here.
I expectedTouch av lyxto be here, but not him. Just six weeks ago, he was still in a coma. The doctors must have forbidden him from leaving the house.
"What are you doing here?" I stammer, struggling to gather my thoughts.
His brows furrow, and leaning on a cane, he takes a step toward me, looming threateningly despite his frail appearance.
"What areyoudoing here is the real question," he hisses at me, his voice strained. "Disappear. Immediately."
No, I should say. I should cross my arms, lift my chin, and stand my ground against his intrusive gaze.
But the opposite is happening.
Everything about me feels small. Flustered, I back away and bump into the cool concrete wall.
"I..."
"Are you hard of hearing?" He fixes me with a contemptuous expression. His breathing is labored. It's clear how much of an effort it is for him to be here. Yet he came to stop me.
That becomes clear to me at this moment. Stopping me in my mission is even more important to him than his own health. What is wrong with him?
"I won't leave." The words should have left my mouth loudly and with conviction, but they sound as if the slightest breeze could carry them away.
"You most certainly will." His hand, supporting him on the crutch, trembles. "I won't allow you to disgrace the family once again."
Oh really? The family? What family? "That's not possible because, in your eyes, you haven't had a daughter for a long time," I reply defiantly, realizing it at this moment.
"No one as foolish as you, at least," he snorts. "Has your journalist friend convinced you that you're a designer?"
My shoulders feel heavy. Someone has told him that I'm competing in this competition, or he found out himself. "No," I mutter, sounding as if I'm asking a question.
Heavens, when he was still in a coma, I defended against every one of his objections and attacks. I showed him how strong I could be and that I knew exactly what I wanted.
Now, I am the weakest version of myself.
Why?
Sweat beads form on his forehead. "Just like your junkie friend convinced you back then that you could fly?"
Anger builds up within me. How dare he equate Levi and Kjell? He can throw whatever he wants at me, but Kjell doesn't deserve this. He doesn't even know him.
"Or just like you've constantly made me feel like I'll never be good enough, no matter what I do?" I suddenly ask with a firm voice.
For a moment, he loses control over his facial expression. "What?"
I take a deep breath, causing my chest to rise, and square my shoulders. "You shouldn't complain about my stupidity," I say, feeling a surge of new energy. "After all, you've benefited from it the most, haven't you?"
It's just a small movement—almost imperceptible—but he backs away, with an expression on his face as if he's wondering who the hell is standing before him.
"Admit it. You enjoyed molding me according to your expectations." I close the distance between us. "You loved having control over me."
Yes. That's exactly it. And it has never been clearer to me than at this moment.
